Zero Emotion, Muted Emotion
by K'sChoiceofAFI
Summary: When the school year rolls around and Quinn is no longer in the choir room week after week, Rachel feels the loss immediately. Determined to preserve the friendship Quinn continually denies, Rachel embarks on a path to prove her loyalty to Quinn. But the result of her ambition may be more than either of them had ever expected.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Zero Emotion, Muted Emotion (Love Pusher)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **R

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **When the school year rolls around and Quinn is no longer in the choir room week after week, Rachel feels the loss immediately. Determined to preserve the friendship Quinn continually denies, Rachel embarks on a path to prove her loyalty to Quinn. But the result of her ambition may be more than either of them had ever expected.

**A/N:** Inspired by Frank Ocean's _Novacane_, the title is a mix of lyrics from that song and Justin Timberlake's _Pusher Love Girl_. Should be a two-shot. Rated R for descriptions of illicit drug use.

* * *

Quinn peeled her eyes open with a long cough that erupted in a series of rough wheezing until she sat up. Her eyes, wide as saucers, blinked as she looked around. There was a thick blanket of smoke coating the room that paled in comparison to the amount of smoke she could feel in her head. It felt like someone had crawled into her cranium and lit a match while humming a pleasant tune that subdued her as she scanned the room. Beside her on the couch was Mack, taking a drag of a blunt. On the other side of the room sat Ronnie in a La-Z Boy that she was reclined fully back on until her bare neck presented itself. Sheila was snoring loudly in the corner.

"Another hit?"

Lazily, Quinn dragged her eyes from Sheila to find Mack leaning toward her, with heavy lidded red eyes. The joint in her hand was almost completely gone and Quinn was sure Mack's fingers were burning though she was probably too gone to care. Quinn was too gone to care as well as she simply told Mack to, "Shotgun me."

Mack sent her a wink as she sunk back into the couch cushions. "You just wanna kiss me."

Quinn barely registered what Mack said but she laughed anyway as she slammed back into the couch. "Ronnie."

A grunt on the other side of the room was the only response she received along with Sheila's snoring in the corner. But Quinn didn't feel the need to care. She didn't feel anything, really, and she hadn't for a long time.

"Okay, come on."

She forced herself to turn onto her side, propping her right arm along the back of the couch as she leaned closer towards Mack who was currently busy taking a slow drag. "Make it good," Quinn heard herself say.

She could tell Mack wanted to say something back by the way her cheeks puffed out, but her mouth was full of twenty dollar smoke and it was probably best if she didn't lose it.

Mack pulled the blunt away with a small moan, holding it like she would a wolf by the scruff of its neck as she leaned closer. Quinn met her halfway, cupping Mack's cheek more for the high in her mouth than the kiss as their lips barely grazed. Her mouth hovered open, puckered as she sucked while Mack blew. The smoke that she felt in her head intensified to a warm and fuzzy feeling as she released Mack to fall back against the couch. "Damn," she sighed, smoke escaping her nostrils.

Mack nodded. "Yeah." She slumped back against the arm of the couch. "Hurry up. We've got one more."

Quinn turned to squint her eyes at the scrap of what was between Mack's fingers still burning away. She had quickly learned long ago that there was a difference between being high and being stoned. Being high made her uncontrollably giggly and bubbly, and she didn't like it. She much preferred being stoned to where she felt…nothing. Nothing mattered and not too much existed outside of what she was smoking and who she was smoking it with.

"Ready?"

She didn't even bother to sit up, just turned her head in time to see Mack stubbing out the last of what was honestly just rolling paper by now. Then Mack moved toward her, looking predatory like a shark as she rose up onto her knees, cupped the side of Quinn's face and leaned in.

It was a kiss, Quinn noted when she realized she was getting less smoke and more of Mack's bottom lip. It wasn't the first time they had kissed. Mack was known to steal kisses from those she was attracted to when the opportunity presented itself and every time they shot-gunned something along the lines of what was happening now would happen.

They pulled away, and Quinn wiped the back of her hand across her lips, licking them before tipping her head back against the couch. Her eyes slipped closed as she heard Mack sigh loudly. "Ready for school tomorrow?"

"No," Quinn answered plainly.

"Me neither."

She heard a flicking noise, then scrunched her nose as she smelled cigarette smoke. "Do you ever stop?" Her voice sounded nasally, even _more_ so to her own ears which was kind of a downside to smoking.

"Go hard or go home," Mack answered.

Her breathing evened out as her mind completely bottomed out until there was nothing left. Not a single thought.

"Why do you hate everything so much?" Mack asked.

After a moment Quinn shook her head with a giggle. "I don't even remember why anymore."

* * *

There wasn't enough Clear Eye in the world to cure her bloodshot eyes.

Quinn rubbed soggy paper towels over her eyelids as she walked out of the bathroom. Her hair hung low, threatening to sink into her eyes, and she brushed the loose strands back to see as she walked down the hallway. It had been a week, yet people still parted like the Red Sea when they saw her as if she was a bad omen that would only bring about a plague.

A smirk touched her lips at the distance she was given as she strutted down the hallway. There was someone beside her locker who automatically slammed theirs and scurried away as Quinn sauntered up to her own. She spun her locker combination in and it opened with a clang. Her tongue rolled along the inside of her cheek indolently. There weren't many books in her locker; only an empty binder and a spiral single subject notebook rested at the bottom of her locker with pictures and a poster of the Sex Pistols inside. She grabbed a pen from inside and tucked it behind her ear before closing her locker to find Rachel Berry standing there.

Unconsciously, Quinn's gait widened into a slightly defensive stance as her hip cocked out. Her eyes raked down Rachel's body, more to put her on edge than anything.

It worked, because Rachel visibly stiffened, wringing her hands together as she took a step closer. "Hi, Quinn," she began tentatively. "I just wanted to check on you, see how you were doing…"

Quinn's face remained still as stone save for one eyebrow lift of incredulity. "Are you joking?"

Rachel's brow instantly furrowed. "Why would I be joking?"

She shrugged and scuffed her feet into motion to carry a snail's pace down the hallway. Her tone was light, conversational as she pointed out, "We aren't exactly friends."

Rachel's shoulders were tight with apprehension as she walked alongside Quinn with her head down. "Yes—but we _were_ once."

"Barely."

"Okay, stop," Rachel breathed out in a reedy voice as she grabbed Quinn's arm. They stopped in the middle of the hallway, and Quinn ran a hand through her hair as her head lolled to the side in a show of boredom as blank eyes bore into Rachel's.

"Can we not do this?" Rachel continued in a strained voice like someone had cut her and left her to bleed.

"Do what?"

"Stop acting like we don't mean anything to each other."

"We don't." She looked down at the wounded expression on Rachel's face, then glanced away. Quinn was no longer with Finn, no longer in glee club, and contrary to popular belief, there was absolutely no reason why she needed to continue her obsession over Rachel. Those two things, and occasionally Puck, were the only reason why she honestly gave Rachel the time of day, and now that Quinn had literally nothing left in her life aside from a pack of cigarettes in one pocket and a lighter in the other, there was no reason for this 'friendship' Rachel kept insisting on to occur.

With that in mind, Quinn pried her arm from Rachel's grip and walked away.

Shock was evident on Rachel's face. Quinn had just left her. Quinn _never_ left her. Her teeth gritted in rage as she spun on her heel. Hair whipping behind her, Rachel stormed down the hallway.

"Hey, Rachel, I was wondering if I could have a wor—"

Rachel gave Jacob Ben Israel the hand, unable to even form intelligible thoughts at the moment, let alone words.

Quinn Fabray had just _left_ _her_ standing in the middle of the hallway. It was perplexing and disappointing to say the least. Quinn had always stuck around to hear Rachel out, even when Quinn didn't want to hear what Rachel had to say, even when they weren't friends and antagonized each other in the hallway—it was always Rachel storming off, never Quinn.

When she finally made it to the bathroom, Rachel roughly pushed the door open and walked inside. She went to her favorite stall—the handicap one—and closed the door behind her.

Leaning back against it, she cried.

* * *

"Alright, guys, let's take a break!" Mr. Schuester called.

Mercedes huffed, folding her arms across her chest as she stormed away from the group.

Kurt gave Rachel a once over. "Girl," was all he said.

"Okay, hold up, Mr. Schue. We can't just keep stopping run-throughs because Berry keeps missing her mark," Santana insisted with a sneer in Rachel's direction.

"_Twice_ I've missed my mark since you've even _known_ me, Santana," Rachel defended. "Which is more than I can say for you."

Santana's upper lip quivered as she approached Rachel. "Oh, don't you dare go there, Berry. Q isn't here to hold me back this time." Brittany reached out to clasp Santana's hand before she closed in on Rachel.

Rachel sidestepped Santana and walked to Finn's other side. She crossed her arms and looked to Mr. Schuester in distress.

Mr. Schuester sighed. "Okay, everyone, have a seat."

Grudgingly, everyone walked back to their seats. Schuester grabbed a stool nearby and sat atop it. "Okay." He clasped his hands together. "What's going on, guys?"

"Berry can't carry a tune," Santana answered with a neck roll. "And I think we all know what that means. Berry's lost her touch. I vote we make me new glee club captain."

Rachel's head spun around so fast to gawk at Santana in the back of the choir room it nearly broke her neck. "_Excuse_ me!?"

"Oh, _hell_ no!" Mercedes cut in. "I've been here since the beginning. If anyone is going to be the new captain, it's gonna be me."

Finn raised a dubious eyebrow. "Uh, guys? I'm co-captain."

Santana continued undeterred. "Not for long."

"Guys, guys!" Rachel shouted. "There isn't going to _be_ a new captain, thank you very much. I am perfectly capable of continuing this position by myself despite my most recent and brief distractibility."

Finn frowned. "But I'm co-capt—"

"Really, Mr. Schuester, it's getting annoying to have to 'start from the top' every two seconds," Mercedes piped up.

"I just want to get to my part," Kurt interjected.

"I ju-ju-just want to _have_ a part," was Tina's snide remark under her breath.

Mr. Schuester nodded along with everyone's sentiments. "I understand that no one wants to keep starting over. But when something needs to be perfected, we practice to perfect it."

"Precisely," Rachel punctuated with a pointed look around the room.

"However, Rachel," Mr. Schuester hedged, "you _have_ been uncharacteristically off this afternoon."

Her eyebrows bunched in disapproval at the comment.

"You seem distracted, Rachel," he tried again. "Anything you wanna get off your chest? Maybe the club can help."

"Uh, excuse me? When did glee club turn into group therapy?"

"Since you started crying over the lezzy duets you and Brittany perform together, Scissor Sisters," Puck quipped with a chuckle.

Santana flipped him off. "I'm surprised you even _get_ that reference."

"Puck, Santana," Mr. Schuester called after them in a disapproving voice. "Knock it off, guys. Rachel—" he gestured toward her, "you have the floor."

With a gracious smile, Rachel stood and walked to the front of the room. She spun around to face everyone. "Fellow glee club members, as you all are aware, Quinn Fabray is no longer with us." She licked her lips, for once completely unprepared to give a speech. "It's just—doesn't anyone miss her?"

Brittany pouted mournfully at the mention of Quinn. Mercedes broke eye contact while Santana crossed her arms defensively over her chest and pursed her lips. "She made her choice."

Rachel nodded in agreement. "But that doesn't mean we can't miss her, o-or try to convince her to come back."

"Yeah, I mean—" Brittany shrugged when Santana shot her a look of betrayal. "All I'm saying is she left before and came back."

"And all _I'm_ saying is that Quinn isn't gonna do something she doesn't want to do," Santana countered.

"Santana's right," Puck agreed. "Quinn doesn't do things she doesn't wanna…except that one time."

Finn's eyes widened in intrigue while Rachel's narrowed in suspicion. Santana cut Puck a look.

"Look all I'm saying is that my baby mama is her own woman now—a wild, hot woman—"

Rachel shook her head in disapproval. "I think we get it, Noah, thank you."

Santana raised her hand. "Who votes we adjourn this meeting because Aunty Tana has a pedicure appointment that costs an Andrew Jackson to cancel less than an hour beforehand?" She looked pointedly at Brittany. "Spa date, Britt-Britt?"

Unable to resist the allure of a date, Brittany grinned up at Santana and raised her hand.

Puck raised his hand as well. "Ah, what the hell? Sorry, Mr. Schue," he apologized when Mr. Schuester cut him a look for the swear. "But she's not coming back. And she looks wicked hot now. Why try to cramp her style, Jew-Baby?"

Rachel's fists clenched at her sides. "Please refrain from calling me that, Noah."

Mercedes raised her hand next. "They're right, Rachel. She's not coming back."

Finn avoided eye contact with Rachel while he raised his hand, and Tina followed soon after. "I-I-I like her new look."

Santana stood and walked down the risers with Brittany in tow. "That's majority."

"We didn't even count," Rachel replied snidely.

"I don't care. I'm not gonna sit here another moment. Mr. Schue, may we leave?"

He looked like a man caught between a rock and a hard place. Glancing at the clock, he nodded. "Sorry, Rachel. But glee club _is_ technically over."

Everyone promptly stood to leave.

"However, I would encourage you all to have some compassion for one of our own," Mr. Schuester called out, raising his voice over the commotion of everyone talking and walking out. "Quinn was a very valuable asset to the choir room."

"Mhm, as I've stated before," Rachel offered.

"Once a member always a member!" Mr. Schuester continued.

"Unless you quit!" Santana quipped as she walked out of the room.

"Can it, Santana!" Rachel roared after her.

Once the choir room was empty sans Finn, Rachel pouted morosely and turned to rest her head on his chest. "Does no one care about her?" she whispered, more so to herself.

"You do," Finn offered with an encouraging smile. "Though I don't get why. I mean, she was kinda a bitch to you and stuff, but—"

Rachel sighed. "That's enough, Finn."

She had heard it all before.

* * *

"I'm just saying that maybe you're a little too invested in her," Finn cautioned.

Rachel balanced her phone between her ear and shoulder while she painted her baby toenail Strawberry Bubblegum Pink. "Someone has to be," she defended. "She's a _person_, Finn." And really, she was sick of constantly having to defend why she gave a damn about Quinn to just about everyone, even Quinn herself. She capped the bottle of fingernail polish for a moment and surveyed all ten toes. Alarm struck her when she found inadequacy within a nail on her other foot and she attacked it with nail polish.

"I know, I know," she registered Finn sigh out. "It's just—it's our senior year, our last year together before you go off to New York and I—I don't know." Rachel exhaled a slow breath and steeled herself because she was _not_ going to feel sorry for Finn Hudson right now. He was her boyfriend and she loved him, but she had informed him two years ago when their courtship first began that nothing and no one would hold her back…including him. "And I want us to spend it, you know, together."

"We will," Rachel soothed. She capped her nail polish one last time and placed it beside her on the bed. "Finn, we will spend this year together. And we'll go out on dates and you'll come over to my house and I'll go over to yours—it'll be the way it's always been. Quinn's never gotten in the way of that before, has she?"

Grudgingly, Finn mumbled no, and Rachel smiled. "And she won't get in the way of us spending time together now. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Great." Rachel nodded. "Now may I have Quinn's number, so that I may text her in an effort to convince her to clean up her act."

Finn sighed and rattled off Quinn's number to Rachel.

She ended the call soon after, and bit her lip in concentration as she attempted to compose a text message that seemed caring but not _too_ caring. She couldn't afford to show all her cards this early, not to Quinn Fabray, manipulator extraordinaire, of all people. Finally she decided on a simple text to get the ball rolling.

_Hi, Quinn. This is Rachel Berry._

_* Rachel Berry_

"Come on, Rachel," she griped to herself at the idiotic redundancy of the text message. She quickly erased the second sentence and simply sent, _Hi, Quinn_, knowing Quinn would obviously know who the message came from, and pressed send.

No more than a minute later her phone sounded off and Rachel giddily picked up the phone to find a text message from Quinn.

_The number you have attempted to contact is no longer in service._

Rachel's frown was instantaneous. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. Quinn no longer had a phone? How unfortunate for her. Her life must have been worse than Rachel had first realized. How was she to contact anyone when she needed assistance while living on the fringes of society? All of those thoughts came to an abrupt halt, however. "Wait a minute…"

_Nice try, Quinn, Fabray, but I saw you using your phone today in school before you then exited the building._

_* Rachel Berry_

A part of her was absolutely livid. Quinn Fabray was such a-such a sneaky _liar_. Not that any of this was a surprise to Rachel. But she had thought that maybe she and Quinn had gotten past this point. It came as a shock when her phone buzzed again, and Rachel thought it was either someone else (a limited number of someone elses, but someone else nonetheless) or Quinn really trying to sell this phone being disconnected bit.

_What is it, Berry_.

Well, the good news was that it was Quinn, and a part of Rachel felt instant relief. The not so new-news was that Quinn didn't seem too happy to be talking to her. But Rachel had gotten past that before and she would again.

_I am texting you to inquire about your well-being._

_* Rachel Berry_

Short, sweet, and to the point. Two years had taught Rachel that beating around the bush with Quinn often got her nowhere. Quinn was a direct person who appreciated the same approach right back. She unlocked her phone the second it vibrated against her hand.

_I'm fine._

Rachel huffed. How incredibly rude.

_That's good._

_* Rachel Berry_

Two minutes went by without a response, and Rachel panicked, fearing that Quinn had thought that to be the end of the conversation, put her phone down, and wandered off.

_I am fine as well._

_* Rachel Berry_

She didn't have to wait too long for a response, which alerted her to the fact that Quinn was very much connected with her phone, and _chose_ to not respond.

_Great._

"What an insufferable girl," she muttered to herself as she shuffled around in bed to lie down on her stomach. Though a part of her did feel oddly rewarded by the fact that she was talking to Quinn. It was unhealthy, the way Quinn could alter her mood with a single text or lack thereof.

She was caught in confusion: a part of her fuming at Quinn's lack luster responses, and a part of her ecstatic that Quinn was responding at all. On impulse, she began typing whatever decided to come out, without any thoughts on censoring herself.

_You know what? I am decidedly not fine._

_* Rachel Berry_

When thirty seconds went by and she didn't get a response, Rachel drafted another text message, incensed once more.

_I am not fine because I have this friend who quit glee club cold turkey without so much as a warning. The same friend who had the nerve to walk away from me yesterday in school, and has ignored me ever since._

_* Rachel Berry_

_And THEN when I showed concern or said friend in glee club, the entire club practically laughed me off the stage._

_* Rachel Berry_

Her heart was pounding beneath her breast after sending the third message. It felt like a bit of catharsis, finally being able to voice her frustrations to Quinn about their one-sided friendship and about how she couldn't seem to find anyone else who _cared_.

She collapsed onto the bed in despair when two minutes went by without a response. Maybe Quinn was just too far gone to care about her anymore, or anything, really. Rachel flipped onto her back. She folded her arms underneath her head and stared at the ceiling. Perhaps Finn was right. Maybe she _was_ too invested in Quinn's well-being, especially since this was all apparently one-sided.

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt when her phone sounded off.

_From what I remember, the choir room doesn't have a stage._

"The nerve of that girl," Rachel mumbled to herself. Though just receiving the text message, confirmation that Quinn was in fact reading and reacting to her own messages, perked Rachel up. She went to draft a message when it was interrupted by yet another message from Quinn.

_And that sucks. This person doesn't sound like a friend. Nor does it sound like they have any._

The message was sent before Rachel could even weigh in with a conscious thought.

_She has me._

_* Rachel Berry_

The reply was Quinn's quickest one yet.

_Noted._

Rachel bit her lip in uncertainty, unsure of what to make of that last message. Her thumbs hovered over her keypad in decision. All the thoughts that bombarded her head seemed too intrusive to ask Quinn at this delicate time between the two of them. Perhaps quizzing her in person would yield better results.

It was the first actual conversation they had had in a while, and certainly the first time they had ever texted. Rachel didn't want to send Quinn running for the hills this early. Instead, she ended their conversation with a simple goodnight, colon, closed parenthesis. And Quinn responded soon after.

_Goodnight_.

* * *

Quinn peeled her eyes open to squint at the ceiling. Instantly she was aware that she wasn't at home. Where _was_ she? Too tired to move, Quinn attempted to come to a conclusion without moving. Her eyes scanned the walls for familiarity. This wasn't Mack's house. This wasn't any house she had ever been to.

"Fuck," she muttered to herself. This meant she had to move around. She lifted her head first and surveyed her surroundings. She was on a couch, which would explain why her spine felt completely stiff and misaligned. The house didn't look the least bit familiar, but Quinn was comforted by Sheila's presence on the other couch, and Mack curled up on the floor. She looked cold and Quinn tossed the throw on the back of the couch she was resting on onto Mack's body. It landed with a thump, and Mack groaned in protest, yet snuggled underneath it anyway.

Having found familiarity in her friends, Quinn collapsed back against the couch. Nothing about last night was coming to mind, and she fished out her phone from between her and the couch. That had been her method of remembering past nights' events for the past month or so. Whenever she didn't remember the night before, she would check her call logs and read her text messages from that night to get a general idea of what she had gotten herself into.

Clicking on her message icon, Quinn bypassed the random new, unsaved number in her phone to see texts from Mack, Ronnie, and Sheila last night. She scrolled through all of them and came to a general consensus of last night: Quinn was supposed to score booze with her older sister's ID she had taken the last time Frannie had visited, Mack would get the chronic, and they would all rendezvous at Ronnie's house—the only one of their houses Quinn had never been to.

Which would explain—she reasoned while she glanced around the room one more time—why this place felt so unfamiliar. Curious as to who belonged to the number at the top of her messages, Quinn licked on the thread of conversation. It only took a moment to realize it was none other than Rachel Berry. Quinn sighed in annoyance as she read over their conversation. "This is some bullshit," she muttered to herself. She bit the tip of her thumb while she used the other one to scroll through the conversation. She laughed at Rachel's concern. "Same old Berry."

She laughed carelessly on the outside, but felt conflicted on the inside as she always did when it came to Rachel. "No," she muttered to herself as months-old thoughts began to rear their heads. "I'm not doing this again."

* * *

Quinn slid into her car and closed the door. She slid her key into the ignition, and just as she went to lock her doors, the passenger side door opened.

Heart leaping out of her chest, Quinn instinctively leaned to the far left toward her car door as she trained her eyes on the trespasser. Once she realized who it was, her breath whooshed out of her in relief. Relief that quickly warped into anger. "Berry, what the hell?" she yelled.

Rachel settled into the car, sweeping her bangs to hang neatly once more. She turned to Quinn with a grave expression on her face. "I am accompanying you on your afternoon excursions in an attempt to fathom what about your current life is so significant that you miss school on a regular basis. And worse, quit the glee club."

Quinn's reaction was fiery and instantaneous. "Get the fuck out of my car."

Rachel swallowed back her nervousness. She had already been slapped once. "No. I can handle another if need be."

Quinn's eyebrows knitted in confusion before understanding dawned on her. She couldn't help the crooked smile of dark amusement that slithered across her face. "Well aren't you a regular old masochist?"

Rachel blushed both at the insinuation and the way Quinn was looking at her with a sly smirk. She looked down at her hands and cleared her throat before cracking a window.

Quinn raised an eyebrow. She gripped the steering wheel and stared ahead at the students in the parking lot for a solution. "I'll call the cops," she finally threatened.

"Call them."

She gritted her teeth. Rachel called her bluff. Quinn sighed. "Look, Rachel. You have a real talent in singing, okay?"

Rachel wasn't sure where this was going but the compliment from Quinn of all people sent her soaring. "Thank you for realizing my undeniable talent."

"And you're also really dorky and dramatic and I guess that's what theater wants."

In an instant she was frowning and Quinn cackled evilly.

"That wasn't very funny," Rachel huffed.

Quinn shrugged, turning the key in the ignition and shutting off the car. "My point is that glee club is definitely where you belong. It's _for_ you. It's not _for_ me."

Rachel turned to Quinn with imploring eyes. "But what about school?" she suggested. "You excel so well."

Quinn toyed with the skull head key ring attached to her car key. "Maybe I don't want to excel anymore."

A perplexed expression crossed Rachel's face. Quinn casted a sideways glance to see it and rolled her eyes. "I know that may be a foreign concept to you, but try to understand."

Now Rachel really wanted to know more than anything what Quinn did outside of school that would cause such atrophy in caring about her academic excellence. Maintaining full eye contact, Rachel reached blindly behind her for her seatbelt. It smoothly slid across her torso and clicked with finality as she buckled it. "Take me with you, please." Her voice was quiet, urgent.

Quinn turned away from her and twisted her key until her engine purred once more. She adjusted her rearview mirror and glanced behind her before placing her car in reverse and backing out of the parking spot.

"I should've just called the police," she grumbled to herself as she pulled out of the parking lot.

Incredibly giddy that she got to accompany Quinn after all, Rachel choked back a smile at Quinn's barely contained irritation.

As they rode in silence, she observed the car. It was very well taken care of and smelled divine—a combination of car freshener and Quinn's perfume. She suddenly felt foolish and guilty for thinking Quinn was no longer well off. Of course she was. She still had her phone and this car, and—Rachel discreetly shuffled closer to the center console—a full tank of gas!

"We're not going to run out," Quinn informed her in a blasé voice.

Embarrassed, Rachel leaned all the way over until she was practically out of the window. "Sorry."

"Weirdo."

She scowled and flicked her hair over one shoulder to glare across the car at Quinn. "I most certainly am not!"

Quinn made a noise of disagreement, but said nothing more. They rode the rest of the way in silence. Rachel contented herself with stealing what she hoped were subtle glances at Quinn. The pink hair was beginning to grow on her, she was reluctant to say. After all pink was her favorite color. And with the horribly tawdry red lipstick that adorned Quinn's lips, it actually went quite well. The eye liner she wore made Quinn look a little older, a little more mature, a little more dangerous, and Rachel's heart quickened at the thought. But this was _Quinn_—former president of the celibacy club for crying out loud! She couldn't really be dangerous. Could she?

Rachel turned away to cast a semi-worried glance out of the window. She had never been to this part of town. "Where are we going?"

Though this appeared to be an affluent part of Lima, she noticed.

"My house."

"Oh." Figures.

They pulled into a driveway soon after, and Quinn parked the car, turned it off, and got out without a word. Rachel stepped out of the car, unsure if she was supposed to or not. But curiosity was guiding her feet more than anything. She wanted to know what it was that had turned Quinn into such a delinquent. Moreover, this was Quinn's house. She had never been and had always been curious as to what her home life was like.

The house was silent as they walked through it, and Rachel acquainted herself with family photos on the wall before they made it to the kitchen. There was no sign of life in the house, yet Rachel thought she had seen a car outside. "Is your mom home?"

Quinn looked to a shut room at the top of the stairs. Her jaw tightened as she turned to Rachel. "Maybe she is. Maybe she isn't. What's it to you?"

Rachel recoiled, feeling foolish yet again for her faux-pas. Her toes dug into her Mary Janes in uneasiness at the severe look on Quinn's face. "I'm sorry."

The tension in her shoulders eased at the wounded look on Rachel's face. Quinn pursed her lips and turned away to head up the stairs. "She's here," was all she said.

Confused as to what she was supposed to do, Rachel first glanced around the house and spied empty wine bottles in the dining room. "Aren't those going to get you into trouble?" she hissed in a quiet voice as she followed Quinn upstairs.

"Those aren't mine."

Foot secure in mouth as understanding dawned on her, Rachel said no more.

They ended up in Quinn's room. To Rachel's utter surprise, it was…normal. There were beige sheets atop the bed, a small bookcase in the corner, a desk across the room from the bed with a closed laptop on it. There weren't any Led Zeppelin or ACDC posters on the wall like Rachel had been expecting, no dark and emo color scheme. In fact the room barely looked occupied, and Rachel surmised Quinn didn't spend much time at home.

As Rachel's eyes worked their way back over the room they landed on Quinn half naked in the corner. Rachel's mouth went dry. With her back facing Rachel, Quinn had on a matching frilly pink bra and panty set. Feeling her face grow warm, Rachel turned away just as Quinn was unhooking her bra.

Across the room, Quinn smirked as she grabbed a black sports bra from her drawer. "If I knew you'd be a Peeping Tom, I would've made you stay downstairs, Berry."

Rachel stammered as pink spread rapidly across her cheeks. "It was an accident! I-I-I mean, I wasn't looking. Well, I happened to _glance_ over at you—by accident! And really, why not warn a person?"

"Calm down, don't have an aneurysm." As a former cheerleader, Quinn often got dressed and undressed in the presence of others without much thought. It was a habit, she realized as she pulled her skirt up her thighs, that she probably needed to break soon.

Just seconds later Quinn was directly in front of Rachel with a blank expression on her face. "Let's go," she ordered without even waiting for Rachel's reaction.

Rachel followed behind her, mute only because she was surveying Quinn's new outfit. She was wearing a too big black shirt that had been artfully cut up, the sleeves missing, giving Rachel a glimpse of Quinn's sports bra and a sliver of pale skin that she had fully been privy to earlier. Shocked that her own thoughts had ventured back to that moment minutes ago, Rachel pried her eyes away from Quinn to stare up at the ceiling for a bit of clarity in the midst of her confusion. "Where are we going?" she asked as she grabbed the railing.

At that, Quinn cackled.

* * *

"Everyone this is Rachel," Quinn announced with an annoyed grumble to her voice. "You may or may not remember her—"

"The band geek who doesn't like The Bangles," Sheila cut in.

Rachel cleared her throat and stepped forward. "Well, it's glee club," Rachel corrected. "Also, it is not to say that I don't like The Bangles, uh—shank—"

Sheila stood to her full height, and Rachel leaped back to her original position by Quinn's side. "I _have_ a name, School Girl."

"And I would have _given_ your name had you not have interrupted," Quinn countered, her tone assertive. She was reminiscent of the head cheerleader she used to be and the memory of a Quinn before this transformation pained Rachel's heart.

"Well, I'm Sheila. Call me that," Sheila insisted.

Rachel nodded. "Hello, Sheila."

Snickering at Rachel's misfortune, Ronnie waved at her from the couch. "I'm Ronnie. Don't forget it."

"Hello, Ronnie," Rachel greeted in a quiet voice.

The brunette closest to them seemed to be the most outgoing, though she also seemed to have a chip on her shoulder as she sized Rachel up. "And I'm The Mack. People just call me Mack, though."

Rachel tried to smile as she looked around the room at all of them. "It's very nice to meet you all."

"Have a seat," Mack instructed. She turned around to find a table in the middle of the room. "Yo, Sheila, Ronnie, I told you bozos to move it like five times already!"

"You move it!" Ronnie yelled back even as she stood up. She grabbed one end and Sheila grabbed the other then the table was moved across the room.

Mack plopped down on the floor. Quinn sat down beside her and folded her legs underneath her even though she had a skirt on. Rachel eyed the fishnet stockings clinging to her like a second skin as she sat beside Quinn. Ronnie returned to plop down beside her, to Rachel's discomfort, and Sheila sat between Ronnie and Mack.

Mack reached behind her to grab something Rachel couldn't quite make out. Then they locked eyes. "So, what brings you to my humble abode?"

Quinn. That was it, really. Rachel certainly wasn't here for the lack of hospitality and uneasiness she felt. She tugged at the hem of her skirt, feeling exposed now that everyone's eyes were on her. "Well, I was just curious as to what about this new lifestyle is so bewitching to Quinn—"

The whole room burst into laughter.

Quinn sighed and rubbed at her temples.

Rachel looked from the laughing Skanks to Quinn who looked wholly disappointed. She frowned over at her, wondering what she had done wrong.

"Bewitching?" Ronnie repeated incredulously.

Mack nudged her side. "Where'd you find this one, Quinn?"

"Attached to my ex-boyfriend," Quinn drawled with a roll of her eyes.

Everyone laughed again and Rachel shot her a wounded look.

Quinn cut her eyes to Rachel. "What?"

"I thought we were closer than 'attached to my ex-boyfriend,'" Rachel explained. "I thought we were friends."

Seeming to sense the tension, Mack and Sheila quieted their laughter to better hear the conversation. Ronnie, who had always been a little slower on the uptake, continued.

Quinn shot Rachel a sobering look. "We've had our moments," she allowed.

"Okay," Mack punctuated. "Maybe you're friends. Maybe you aren't. I don't really give a fuck. I'm just here to match for a bit before I go get my mack on at Make-Out Point."

Quinn avoided eye contact with Rachel all together while she fished in her pocket for a small zip-lock bag, lighter, and—

"What is that?" Rachel inquired, pointing to what Quinn had in her hand.

"A bowl." Her tone was short and clipped, uncomfortable, and Rachel wondered if it was her. She wordlessly watched Quinn pack the bowl and wondered if it was her presence in the midst of illegal drug use that unnerved Quinn.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

Rachel met Sheila's eyes briefly across the five person huddle before she looked away. "I-I'm sorry. This is all so…new."

"And it's a one-time thing," Quinn assured the group. Finally, after what felt like forever to Rachel, Quinn looked at her. "Right?"

Rachel just stared at her for a moment. She didn't know this Quinn. And by admitting that, Rachel had to also admit she hadn't known Quinn very well at all. Maybe that was what Quinn meant when she kept denouncing their friendship—because Rachel didn't know her. They didn't know each other. Crestfallen, Rachel slumped back subtly in an attempt to work herself out of the circle.

Just then her phone vibrated against her hip. She fished it out of the pocket of her skirt and looked down to see a text message from Finn.

Quinn had readied the bowl in her grip when she noticed Rachel by her side on the phone. "What are you doing?"

"Texting," Rachel replied as she answered Finn's inquiry about her whereabouts.

"Who?"

She turned to look at Quinn then, and that one look was all Quinn needed.

"I don't even want to know," she griped, though she knew, and suddenly she was very grumpy. With that in mind, she flicked the lighter and waved it atop her bowl while she sucked from the pipe. The crackling sound of marijuana burning had become music to her ears.

Rachel's thumbs hovered over the screen of her phone as she watched Quinn continue to suck from the pipe. She must have had a pair of lungs on her. Not ones that rivaled Rachel's by any stretch of the imagination, but a pair of strong lungs in their own right. She watched the way Quinn's cheeks hollowed toward the end as she attempted to inhale just a bit more. Then Quinn pulled away. She waited a moment, swallowed, and her eyes closed blissfully as she exhaled a cloud of white smoke through her nose. Finally, her lips parted the barest hint to release what was left.

And Rachel didn't know much about smoking, but she knew blowing out one's nose was not something for the novice, something she wouldn't be able to do on the first try.

Not that she was going to try it or anything.

Not even giving her the opportunity to turn it down, Quinn passed to her left.

Rachel watched Mack lift her hand up to deny the invitation. "I want a blunt."

Quinn gestured toward Sheila and Ronnie, but they all turned it down, preferring the blunt as well. "Guess this is all me," Rachel heard Quinn mumble to herself as she brought the bowl to her puckered lips once more.

Her phone vibrated against her hand and Rachel looked down, only just remembering that she was having a conversation with Finn.

_r u ok_

Rachel looked around the room as she wondered if the question was valid. Sheila and Ronnie were having their own conversation while Mack was licking and sealing the blunt. Quinn was on her third hit, and Rachel thought she should maybe send this text now and distract Quinn with conversation to get her to slow down.

_I'm fine. We're with Quinn's friends. They're a tad offensive, but nothing I don't already deal with at glee club. :)_

_* Rachel Berry_

She placed her phone back in her pocket and turned to face Quinn more fully. "So what's it like?" she asked in an attempt to keep Quinn from hitting that pipe so hard. Rachel's eyes fell to Quinn's lips as a cloud of smoke hit her in the face.

She inhaled it in on accident and began to cough uncontrollably. Quinn's glazed eyes regained focus instantly and she placed her pipe and lighter carefully by her side between her and Mack before she leaned forward and placed a hand on Rachel's back. "Hey, sorry." She patted Rachel's back a few times until the worst of her coughing subsided. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

Her voice was a raspy, lazy drawl—something Rachel had never heard before. Her fingers fisted into the hem of her skirt at the sound of it. "I'm fine," she whispered. Why was she whispering? She cleared her throat and spoke again. "I'm fine." She flashed a smile. "Really, I'm okay, Quinn."

Quinn's head bobbed up a down with a touch of exaggeration, and Rachel wondered how long it took for cannabis to take effect. Slowly, Quinn's hand traveled down her back, eliciting a surprising shiver from Rachel, before it fell away.

Rachel wondered what all of this meant, but as she watched Quinn fumble uncharacteristically with the lighter before she finally got it to spark, she realized what it was. Quinn was high.

She became a bit amused as she watched inebriation begin to rob Quinn of the suave sophistication that she embodied daily. Her phone sounded off and Quinn perked up and looked around with glazed eyes. "What was that?"

Mack giggled. "Maybe it's the cops," she goaded.

Rachel frowned. "Don't be silly. It was just my pho—"

"The police!?"

Rachel slowly cut her widened eyes to Quinn.

"The police are _here_!?" Quinn asked, voice increasing in pitch with every word.

Rachel placed a calming hand on her shoulder and glazed eyes met hers. "No, Quinn, the police aren't here."

Quinn took her bottom lip between her teeth, and Rachel tracked the movement before meeting her eyes again. "Are you—are you sure?" Quinn whispered.

Rachel smiled. She had no idea Quinn could be so-so _cute_. "I'm sure," she replied sweetly.

Mack sucked her teeth in annoyance. "If I knew you'd be such a fun sponge, I wouldn't have invited you."

Rachel bristled at the insult. "I am _not_ a fun sponge."

"You need to take a hit," Sheila instructed. "Before you get kicked out. This is what we do. We get high and whoever gets paranoid gets their head fucked with for shits and giggles."

Oh. Rachel wasn't quite aware of the 'rules to getting high'. She nodded and reluctantly took her hand from Quinn's shoulder. "Very well. I'm sorry."

Quinn looked confused as she looked between Rachel and The Skanks. "I'm confused. What happened?"

"A cow just jumped over the moon," Ronnie snickered.

Mack blew out a cloud of smoke then passed the blunt to Sheila. She gestured toward Rachel. "Make her take a hit, Quinn."

Quinn blinked, instantly sobering up. "What? I'm not going to _make_ her do anything, especially not drugs."

"Besides I wouldn't want to ruin my vocal cords," Rachel added.

"Either she smokes or she shuts up."

"Hit your blunt and mind your own," Quinn shot back.

Mack grumbled, but went back to the bubble of herself, Sheila, and Ronnie that Rachel had no idea the origins of its formation. But she did notice there was a divide between herself and Quinn, and the other three in the huddle. And Quinn instructing Mack to 'mind her own' solidified two things for Rachel: that there was in fact a divide, and that she was Quinn's—whatever that meant.

She wasn't too sure what it meant, but her stomach flip-flopped at the thought anyway. As Quinn went back to lighting her bowl, Rachel went back to texting Finn, content with the knowledge that they formed their own bubble. That had to be a start to the friendship that Quinn felt they lacked.

_oh ok. when r u goin home?_

Rachel bit her lip at the question. She hadn't even thought of that one. In fact, she hadn't even alerted her fathers to the fact that she was with Quinn. And it was probably time she called them. Standing up, Rachel smoothed down the back of her skirt. "Excuse me?"

Mack grunted in acknowledgement, as Quinn cracked her eyes open. "When did you start standing?"

Rachel smiled indulgently down at her. "Only a moment ago." She looked at Mack. "I'm just going to—" She gestured toward the hallway, "—make a quick phone call."

Quinn frowned. "You're calling Finn?"

Rachel didn't quite know what to make of the expression on her face, but felt compelled to assure Quinn anyway. "No, my fathers."

Quinn nodded, and Rachel traveled down the hallway to make the phone call. Once she was out of sight, Quinn reclined to lie back on the floor. She folded her arms behind her head. It was pretty shocking that Rachel was sticking around, if she had to admit. She would have thought that Rachel would have gone running the second Finn texted her and ask to go home. But she toughed it out with Quinn's friends—that Quinn admitted weren't easy to get along with.

But Quinn truly couldn't figure out why. Did Rachel really want to be friends that badly? There was nothing special about what Quinn and her friends were doing, certainly nothing that would maintain Rachel's attention. Yet she was willing to stick it out just to spend time together.

And that meant—wait, what was she thinking about again? She hummed along to the buzzing in her head and burning in her lungs as she just lied back and breathed.

"Quinn?"

When had her eyes drifted closed? Quinn attempted to open them but her lids were too heavy. "Hmm?"

Rachel covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. "How are you?" she asked, mildly concerned.

"Just peachy," Quinn replied with a slight slur to her voice.

She seemed just fine, but Rachel surveyed her body for any signs that something was wrong. She wasn't an expert on weed by anyone's standards. But she at least knew it took quite a bit to overdose, and that Quinn was nowhere near that limit. Her eyes fell from Quinn's closed ones and skated down her torso to find that Quinn was still breathing with a steady, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. The cut up shirt had risen to expose her belly button. Rachel stared at the taut muscles of Quinn's abdomen. They twitched periodically and led down to jutting hipbones that were only partially hidden by Quinn's black skirt.

Swiping her tongue over her lower lip, Rachel's eyes flicked up to find Mack, Sheila, and Ronnie paying her no mind. She glanced back down at Quinn's blank, peaceful expression to find darkened hazel eyes on her. Her pulse quickened in surprise as she wondered how long Quinn had been staring at her. "Hi."

Quinn sat up with little effort. "Not anymore." She reached for her bowl and lighter, and her more fluid movements along with her previous quip further alerted Rachel to the fact that she had sobered considerably. Embarrassed, Rachel attempted to cover up the awkward silence that had descended upon their bubble. "How does it feel?" she asked.

Quinn clanged the butt of her lighter against the bowl. "Cashed," she muttered to herself. Then much louder, "It feels like for once I don't have to care about anything." She gave Rachel a frank look.

The answer both intrigued Rachel as well as made her sad for reasons unknown. She watched as Quinn sat the bowl on the floor and began repacking it. The high didn't seem to last for very long. And it didn't seem too potent. The most side effects Quinn had exhibited were paranoia and a bout of laziness. Steeling herself, Rachel inhaled a deep breath. "I would like to try."

Quinn's head whipped around to her and the half bud in her hand fell to the floor. "Fuck!"

"Hell yes!" Mack piped up after having spent the better part of the last half hour ignoring Rachel. "Lay it on her, Quinn."

"I think she'll be fun high. The uptight ones always are," Sheila chimed in.

Rachel ignored her.

Quinn grabbed the bowl once she was finished repacking it. "Are you sure?"

"Quit babying her, Quinn," Ronnie told her, impatient. "Let her try. It won't hurt."

Rachel's eyes widened. "My voice." She had completely forgotten.

"It won't affect your voice," Mack informed her.

"It _could_," Quinn admitted. "If you were a chronic smoker."

Rachel looked baffled. "But isn't this chronic?"

Ronnie laughed once, then again, then Sheila joined in, followed by Mack, and pretty soon all three of them were laughing uncontrollably. Rachel's shoulder slumped.

Quinn waved them off. "Chronic smoker—if you smoke a lot. And don't pay them any attention. It's the weed…which again, you don't have to try."

"I want to experience this with you," Rachel admitted with a little, helpless shrug of her shoulders.

"But your voice—"

"You said yourself it would only affect me if I became a chronic smoker. This is a one-time thing."

It was astonishing. Since the moment she met Rachel, singing had been her life, and Quinn didn't see that changing anytime soon. And it was true one moment of smoking wasn't going to suddenly damage her abilities to sing. But the fact that Rachel was willing to risk it was unreal.

Quinn stared at her for a long moment, then handed her the bowl. She shuffled closer until their arms brushed as Quinn spoke against Rachel's profile. "Okay, I'm going to light it for you so you can just focus on inhaling."

"Holy shit, this is happening," Mack muttered as the three of them simmered down from their laughter.

"Quiet down," Quinn demanded.

Rachel swallowed and stared straight ahead toward the wall above Sheila's head. The sun was just beginning to set, creating shadows along the wall. The room fell silent, save for Quinn's instructions and everything felt so much more intimate. She felt her heart pound in excitement and chalked it up to the illicit drug use.

"You're going to inhale for as long as you think you can—through your mouth," Quinn stated. "Then pull the bowl away, keep the smoke in your mouth, then inhale through your nose a bit to pack it in your lungs. Swallow if you want. It's something I learned when I was a newbie and I've just been doing it ever since. Then once you feel you've sufficiently taken it all in, blow it back out."

Rachel blinked. Those certainly were a lot of instructions.

As if reading her thoughts, Sheila called to her from across the huddle, "It's not that hard!"

Quinn smiled, sheepish and apologetic, and Rachel couldn't help but find it charming. "Sorry. I just want to make sure you get it right."

"I likely won't," Rachel offered with a self-deprecating laugh. "I'm ready."

Quinn placed the bowl between her lips, and Rachel allowed the mouth piece to slip through, ignoring the silly school girl in her that informed her that this was an indirect kiss. Suddenly she was very thankful than the other Skanks preferred rolling papers because this could have gotten unsanitary very quickly.

"Hold this," Quinn instructed. The rasp to her voice made Rachel's eyes slip shut as she took hold of the pipe. She heard the lighter flick then suddenly her face felt warm as the flame was really no more than an inch from her face. "Inhale."

Eager to follow the command, Rachel breathed through her nose. The lighter flicked immediately and the warmth was gone. Rachel opened her eyes to find Quinn staring at her. "Di-did I do something wrong?"

Quinn chuckled a little. "You inhaled through your nose."

Rachel's eyes widened in alarm. "I did! I'm so sorry, Quinn. I just got distracted."

"By what?"

She blushed at the question, thankful that the sun was setting and it was likely impossible to see it.

"Shotgun her!" Mack called from Quinn's side. Suddenly there were three voices chanting, "Shotgun! Shotgun! Shotgun!"

It didn't sound too pleasant. "What is that?"

Quinn balled her lips up in indecision. Finally she shrugged with a devious little grin. "I'll show you." She made quick work of taking a puff with such little effort, Rachel felt foolish for screwing it up.

Then Quinn placed the bowl and lighter in front of them. One hand braced on the floor, Quinn grabbed the back of her neck and leaned in. Unconsciously, Rachel's lips parted, though the protests tried to make themselves known. She had a boyfriend; Quinn was exceptionally beautiful, but she had never really been into girls like that to her knowledge, and—_oh._ Quinn blew a stream of smoke through her puckered lips right into Rachel's mouth. Her proximity afforded body warmth that made Rachel squirm even as she remained firmly where she was. She wouldn't screw this up. She couldn't even find it in her to pull away from the sure grip Quinn had on her. Her eyes fell shut as her body went limp in Quinn's hold.

Sensing her acquiescence, Quinn sat up straighter to wrap her other arm around Rachel's waist as she exhaled her last breath into Rachel's waiting mouth. Quinn pulled back a fraction to see Rachel more fully. She looked almost wanton with closed eyes and parted lips in Quinn's embrace. Her eyes dipped down to Rachel's lips as Rachel exhaled. Slowly, her eyes opened. They were heavy lidded and hazy. "Wow."

Quinn nodded faintly. She heard whistling and catcalling from her side, and glanced over to find the Skanks staring intently at them. Defensive, she scooted back. "We aren't here to give you a show," she bit out.

Rachel's eyes squeezed shut as she tried to make sense of what was happening. All she knew for sure was that Quinn was now annoyed, and she hoped more than anything that it wasn't because of her because she really wanted to shotgun again. "That was really fun, Quinn."

"I bet it was," Mack said suggestively as she, Sheila, and Ronnie giggled.

Quinn eyed them all coldly. "Don't you have to go to Make-Out Point or something?"

"Actually…I'm hungry," she stated as if she had just realized.

Sheila perked up and placed a hand on her now growling stomach. "Food? I'm hungry, too."

Ronnie stood to her feet. "Kitchen."

Like a herd, they all stumbled into the kitchen and Quinn soon heard pots and pans. The sound mad her own stomach growl, but she remained seated.

Rachel shuffled closer until her index finger brushed Quinn's pinky. "Can we try again?"

Quinn trained her eyes on the kitchen doorway then to Rachel's glazed expression. She smiled in amusement. No way this girl was high already. Lightweight. "You're such a—" She cut her insult short and decided to light herself up.

This time Rachel leaned closer, and when Quinn pulled the pipe away, she tugged on her thighs, feeling the fishnets rub against her palm.

Quinn nearly gasped and lost all the smoke in her mouth from the unexpected contact. Her mind grew foggy at the sight of Rachel's hand on her nearly bare thigh right below where her skirt was riding up. Perhaps she should close her legs, but she wasn't going to. She felt Rachel squeeze her thigh and looked up at her.

The expression on Rachel's face was indescribable, and without warning, she leaned forward into Quinn and connected their lips. This time Quinn did gasp into the kiss, and Rachel sucked while Quinn blew, feeling warmth slide into her mouth. There was buzzing in her skull like nothing she had ever felt before as her skin prickled with goose bumps.

Quinn cupped the side of Rachel's face with one hand while the other snaked around her waist and pulled her close once more. She exhaled a ragged breath before meeting her lips again. Her chest felt warm with every press of their lips, and Quinn couldn't comprehend if it was because she was high or something else. She pressed light kisses to Rachel's upper lip before ensnaring her lower lip between her teeth.

Rachel groaned, the soft bite making her lips tingle as the feeling shot down her body and intensified between her legs, only to bounce back up again until she was positive her brain was feeling the same. She just knew she felt fireworks fire off in her head. She wanted more. She wanted to crawl into Quinn's lap and tug her face closer. She wanted lay Quinn flat on the floor and crawl on top of her. She wanted—her tongue snaked out of her mouth to run over Quinn's lower lip as she quite honestly forgot what she was thinking. Her stomach clenched when she heard Quinn moan and she slid her tongue inside.

"Told you she'd be fun stoned."

"And here I thought I was The Mack."

Quinn instantly pulled away. Dazed, Rachel was slower to react as she leaned back then peeled her eyes open. They landed on Quinn glaring up at Mack, Sheila, and Ronnie who were standing above them. "Hey, when did you join the huddle?"

Mack snickered down at her. "Well haven't you just been a naughty girl?"

"Leave her alone, Mack." Quinn stood, feeling out of sorts. She reached down and grabbed Rachel's arm to tug her up. "I think it's time we go."

"But why?" Rachel whined.

"Because I need to get you home."

Rachel pouted but said no more as Quinn grabbed her belongings from the floor and shoved them in her pocket. She placed her hand on Rachel's back and ushered her to the door.

"You're gonna meet up with us again tonight, right?" Ronnie asked as Quinn approached the door.

She practically shoved a halfheartedly protesting Rachel out of it. "I don't know. I'll call if I decide to." And then they were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Zero Emotion, Muted Emotion (Love Pusher)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **R

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **When the school year rolls around and Quinn is no longer in the choir room week after week, Rachel feels the loss immediately. Determined to preserve the friendship Quinn continually denies, Rachel embarks on a path to prove her loyalty to Quinn. But the result of her ambition may be more than either of them had ever expected.

* * *

"…I just have so many goals and dreams that I want to achieve by the time I'm twenty-five," Rachel continued, talking quite literally a mile a minute, Quinn was sure. She had been a regular Chatty Cathy the entire ride home. But that was nothing odd. What was odd was the fact that Quinn found herself listening to every single word Rachel had to speak about her future goals and aspirations. It surprised her, the things she learned about Rachel. Rachel was actually kind of…cool. Not in the traditional sense, but in the sense that she wasn't a total loser, and someone that Quinn actually found interesting.

She pulled up to a stop in front of the Berry household, and almost felt guilty about sending Rachel in there while she was still high. She reached across Rachel to open her glove compartment and pulled out a bottle of Visine then handed it to Rachel. "Your eyes don't look too bad, but this can't hurt."

Rachel nodded and reached for the bottle. Her fingers brushed along Quinn's as she took it.

"I don't regret it," Rachel mumbled when she recapped the bottle.

Quinn placed the bottle in the center console to keep from reaching across Rachel's lap again. "Regret what?"

Rachel frowned. "The kiss."

Quinn swallowed and licked her lips as she met Rachel's gaze dead on. "Oh, really?" she prompted more on a dare than anything.

Rachel nodded. "I-I enjoyed it, Quinn. I wanted it. In fact I wanted so much more."

Oh, this was rich. Quinn leaned forward to rest her elbow on the console separating them. "What did you want, Rachel?" she purred in a sultry voice to milk whatever was in that partially inebriated brain of hers.

"I wanted to crawl into your lap, straddle you and kiss you. I wanted for us to be alone. I wanted the kiss to be longer. I wanted to continuously hear you moan." She took her bottom lip between her teeth, and Quinn clenched her thighs. "Quinn…"

Her voice beseeched Quinn to take action. But Quinn gazed at the clock above her radio and sighed. "You should probably get inside."

Crestfallen, Rachel slumped back in her seat. She unhooked her seatbelt and reached for the door handle.

Quinn grabbed her arm.

Rachel turned to look at her with hopeful eyes.

"Text me," Quinn decided. "If you want."

It was enough to make Rachel light up and she flung herself onto the other side of the car to wrap her arms around Quinn's neck. "I will," she promised in a soft voice. With a little more spring to her step, Rachel hopped out of the car and walked toward her house. "Goodnight, Quinn!" she spun back around to declare.

"Goodnight," Quinn called out of her window. "And don't forget to act sober," she hissed. She waited until Rachel was safely inside, before driving off, deciding she would text Rachel if Rachel didn't text her to make sure she hadn't gotten into trouble.

* * *

Rachel popped up in her bed like freshly prepared toast. She reached over to turn her alarm off as she began her morning routine. Getting dressed, Rachel wandered into the bathroom and, remembering smoking last night, took her time brushing her teeth and washing her face.

She was halfway down the stairs, checking her phone for the messages Finn had sent last night when it all hit her.

She and Quinn had kissed. More than kissed, she and Quinn had full on made out. It happened the second time Quinn shotgunned her. She had gone in for it. _She and Quinn had kissed_.

"What have I done?" Rachel bemoaned to herself as she skulked the rest of the way downstairs.

From the kitchen, Hiram called out to her. "What was that, honey?"

"Nothing, dad," she chirped in a faux-cheerful voice as she plopped down to begin her well balanced breakfast. She bit into piece of toast then began drafting a message to Quinn.

_We need to talk._

_* Rachel Berry_

She exited out of her thread then entered the conversation she and Finn had last night. Rachel didn't remember when she had stopped responding, but judging from the three messages from Finn thereafter, he wasn't amused.

_Good morning, Finn. I apologize for not returning your messages last night._

She bit her lip, not knowing how to best proceed with the message. Things got out of hand during girls' night out? She had rekindled her friendship with Quinn along with something else she hadn't expected? She and Quinn got baked and played tonsil hockey, so texting Finn had been the last thing on her mind?

The last one certainly wouldn't do. And the one before that was probably a no go as well. Instead she sent a friendly reminder that they would see each other very soon at school, and shifted to her conversation with Quinn when she received a new text.

_Typical_.

She didn't know what to make of the message and decide to leave the conversation as is for the time being. What alarmed Rachel the most, however, was that she wasn't freaking out at all.

* * *

Finn roughly pulled his bookbag strap up his shoulder. "All I'm saying is that I've been texting you all night."

Rachel huffed. She slammed her locker closed with a little more force than necessary, and clutched her books to her chest. Her eyes met his, and she felt like she was seeing him for the first time. Standing there in the middle of the hallway, Rachel had felt this distance between them that she had been denying for a while. With every experience she felt herself grow. And with every bout of growth she felt herself grow further from Finn. But he was her boyfriend. He had been the one constant thing she could count on her whole high school career. He was her anchor. And while there may have been a time where he kept her stable, grounded, nowadays it just felt like he was holding her back.

It was both telling and sad that she saw more potential in Quinn who had done a complete one-eighty from last year than Finn who had remained pretty consistent in his mediocrity in the entirety that Rachel had known him.

She attempted to smile up at him, but knew it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm sorry, Finn, really. I was just a little preoccupied."

"Yeah, with Quinn," he shot back. "I didn't expect you guys to actually hang out."

"And so now that we have, you take issue with it?" Rachel asked with a tilt of her head.

Finn sputtered for a second before his face scrunched up. "That's not the issue here!"

Rachel glanced around the hallway. "Lower your voice, Finn," she hissed.

"Sorry." He nodded. "I just, you know, miss spending time with you and stuff."

Rachel tilted her head to the ceiling, jaw working back and forth. She absolutely abhorred being smothered. Finn would get like this at the slightest inclination that Rachel actually had a _friend_. And she wasn't going to stand here and act like they didn't do it to each other, because there was a stint when Rachel had tried every trick in the book to get Finn to quit the football team because every girl wanted to get their hands on the quarterback.

It wasn't healthy. And how Quinn's mouth had somehow finally made her see the light was beyond her, but one thing Rachel knew for sure was that she needed time to think. "Finn." Her voice was soft. "I'm sorry. But I _really_ just need some time right now."

"Is it because of Quinn?" he demanded.

Kind of. "No. No, Finn, it's not. I just need a little time to myself." She touched his arm in an attempt to establish comfort through physical contact. Then she pulled away and walked down the hallway, leaving Finn dumbfounded.

Rachel found Quinn walking out of the exit that led to the football field. "Oh, no you don't," she muttered to herself, pace quickening. She reached for Quinn's arm and yanked her back into the building. "You!"

Quinn leaned back to avoid the finger pointing in her face. She swatted it away with a frown. "What are you, crazy?"

"_You_ did this!" Rachel accused.

Quinn lazily picked a ball of lint off of her shirt. Her tone was challenging as she spoke. "Did what?"

Rachel's fists balled at her sides in anger at Quinn's indifference. "Finn and I are fighting right now."

Her interest piqued. "You told him?"

"_No_."

Then waned. "Typical." Her posture turned dismissive as she glanced away from Rachel, seeming to find more interest in the hallway.

Rachel felt her heart twist at the seemingly subtle gesture of disinterest. She did not need this right now. "Quinn." Her voice was soft, weak. "Quinn, please. I just really need a friend right now."

A friend. Quinn puffed out her cheeks and rocked on her heels. She didn't want to delve into that sticky territory of what a friend was again, especially not after last night. She rolled her eyes around until they were on Rachel again.

Rachel wringed her hands in front of her and stepped forward. "It was because of the kiss," she admitted. "It's making me question everything."

"Like what?"

"My entire relationship with Finn—us."

Quinn stepped forward. She couldn't help the grin that split across her face. "Us?"

Rachel nodded. "Well—yes. Watching you yesterday—" She looked around then pitched her voice lower. "As you packed a bowl—"

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"—I realized that I didn't know you. And because I didn't know you, you were right, we were never friends."

The conversation wasn't going in the direction Quinn had expected, and the frown on her face indicated as much.

"But last night…I felt like last night was our first real start, and I would love to get to know you more." Rachel smiled. "I mean, I talked your head off the whole way home but you-you _listened_ to me. I can't tell you how many people don't, including Finn sometimes."

Quinn stared directly at Rachel. In all the time she had bullied her, Quinn had never thought of how _lonely_ Rachel must have felt. She was the captain of glee club, yet maybe three people out of the whole club actually liked her. She had maybe one friend outside of Finn, and no one really paid her any mind. She had always been that weird kid with the big voice that never really came in handy and was actually kind of annoying unless it resulted in winning a competition or two.

"I felt like, for the first time in my life, that someone actually cared about me and my stupid ramblings about myself," Rachel continued with a broadening smile. "A-and I know I can be self-absorbed. But I-I really care about you, Quinn. So much. It-it's why I wanted to accompany you so badly yesterday, because I wanted to get to know you, to be closer."

It sounded like she was pitching herself as a potential mate, and Quinn just kept her mouth shut, holding her cards to her chest as she looked on at Rachel with intrigue.

"And when I kissed you—I don't even know where that came from," Rachel confessed. "You've always been the most beautiful girl I've ever met, Quinn. But I've never—I mean, I've entertained the thought before—when Finn mentioned he saw fireworks when he kissed you. And I suppose I've always wanted you close in some capacity," Rachel mused more to herself than anything.

Quinn approached her then. She looked Rachel brazenly in the eye. "So you enjoyed the kiss then." It wasn't a question.

"I don't think I should have," Rachel clarified. "I do have a boyfriend after all."

"But you did."

"It is certainly making me rethink a few things."

"Like us." Quinn stepped closer. "And your relationship with Finn."

Rachel bit her lip as she began to pick up the more than mild interest in Quinn's voice. "Yeah."

* * *

She hadn't really known that she wanted Rachel Berry. It was one of those things that Quinn wasn't aware of until it happened. Be that as it may, Quinn found herself replaying the kiss over and over again in her head with more than a little curiosity.

She had decided to remain at school in case she had another run in with Rachel, and found herself slouched in the back of the classroom for pre-calc. It shamed her to admit that she was behind. Academics and cheering were her areas of expertise. And she had completely dropped both of them to become a juvenile delinquent, but couldn't help but wonder how that was going to pay the bills when she got older. She couldn't put things like stoner, bully, and trespasser on her résumé.

A shadow loomed over her and Quinn looked up, pushing lush pink hair from her face to find her math teacher staring down at her with a disapproving frown. He laid a sheet of paper down face first on her desk. "Such promise," he muttered mournfully to himself as he walked away.

Curious, Quinn watched him walk over to the next desk where a student was and place a paper down. She glanced down at her own desk to the paper lying there taunting her. Her fingers gripped it and flipped it over to find a red circled _F_ staring her in the face.

This moment instantly shot up to the top three most disappointing moments in her life, and suddenly the life of delinquency didn't seem so appealing.

But she grabbed her stuff and walked out in the middle of class anyway.

* * *

Rachel was slow to gather her belongings as the choir room cleared out. She clutched her music book to her chest and turned to find Finn impatiently waiting by the doorway. Plastering on a smile, Rachel approached him.

They strolled side by side down the hallway in silence. When it became unbearable, the words caged in her chest, Rachel stopped in the middle of the hallway.

Finn took a step forward then turned to find Rachel behind. He swallowed. "What's wrong?"

His name was a mere breath exhaled from her mouth followed by a full stop. "I need to be completely open and honest with you." If it was one thing nearly four years of high school had taught Rachel, it was that the truth had an ugly way of digging its own grave and escaping if one attempted to bury it. Her eyes began to sting. "And I would appreciate if you would in turn try to keep an open mind." Inhaling a deep breath, Rachel continued. "The other night when Quinn and I hung out, I kissed her."

Finn didn't miss a beat. "You mean, Quinn kissed you and you pulled away, right? I mean, 'cause I know she's a good kisser and all, and convinces you to stay, but you pulled away, right?"

Rachel cleared her throat and tried again. "I mean, I kissed Quinn, and then we made out." She felt like she was only digging the knife in at this point, but she also felt compelled to get this out correctly the first time so there wouldn't have to be a second time.

A moment of silence descended as Finn allowed the information to sink in. Rachel watched his eyes rapidly shift from place to place as he processed the information. He looked at her again, like she was a foreign object. "Did you…?"

"No," Rachel quickly assured. "No, only kissing."

He nodded. "Then I forgive you."

That…was unexpected. Finn typically wasn't into forgiveness unless it was him who needed it. "Really?"

"Well, yeah. You're my girlfriend." He adopted a dopey expression. "Besides it's kinda hot."

Rachel smiled through gritted teeth. "Which brings me to my other point: Finn, I think we should see other people."

Again, without missing a beat, Finn replied. "You mean, you want to see Quinn." He was really picking up on subtleties he would have otherwise missed any other day, to Rachel's surprise. Guilt struck her for the thought and her shoulders slumped.

"I mean, I…I need space, Finn, to figure out what I want," she elaborated. Quinn or no Quinn, this was what it all boiled down to and it had been a long time coming.

Finn shook his head in disdain. "You are so selfish!" he accused.

"I am eighteen years old, Finn Hudson. I _deserve_ to be selfish at this age."

"Do you know how much I've given up for you?" he shot back.

Rachel frowned at his audacity. "What, Finn? What have you given up?"

Wildly, he gestured down the hallway to the choir room. "I stayed in this damn club three years for you!"

"Forgive me for thinking you had actually begun to care for the club we had built together!" Rachel refuted.

"Oh, don't give me that. The other day you wouldn't even defend my title of co-captain to Mercedes and Santana!"

"When have you defended me, _ever_?" Rachel cried, absolutely fuming at his nerve.

"And Quinn has?" he couldn't help but quip.

"Don't. Don't start that with me." Rachel's lower lip quivered. "Yes, there was a time when Quinn Fabray along with the rest of the Cheerios were the reason why school was hell for me. But that has changed."

"You didn't answer my question," Finn challenged.

"If you want to talk about defending, Finn, Quinn _defended_ me by literally holding Santana back when she attempted to attack me at nationals in New York last year. You can't even defend me from an insult by her," she replied snidely. "And Quinn is the reason why I received a page in the year book when glee club first started," she informed him, taking the bait. "She single-handedly stood up to Sue Sylvester to get that page…because she knew how much it meant to me." She grew solemn at the revelation, pensive.

"And?"

"And when I—when I was unsure of your feelings for me," she murmured as the memory flashed back to her in a completely new light now. "She put herself, her pride on the line and baited you to see if you would bite, so I would know for sure."

Finn's face dropped. "She…what? That was you?"

Rachel winced once she realized what she had said. That was never supposed to get out. "Y-you have to understand—"

"What, that you've never trusted me?" Finn growled and stepped back from her, lashing out and shoving his foot into a locker. "What the hell is this, Rachel?"

Rachel grew indifferent under the weight of his temper. "I am saying that I'm ending this, Finn." She couldn't even believe the words as they left her mouth.

"You're not _gay_!"

She was ending things.

"I'm attracted to Quinn, and that's enough for me," she contested.

There was a time when she was sure she was going to marry him.

But as she watched him stand before her and throw a tantrum, she realized that she was growing up, and he would always be that sixteen year old boy with no dreams but a heart of gold.

"I feel like, damn it, Finn, sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating," she confessed to him, tears brimming in her eyes, because it hurt her to even feel this way, let alone say the words. "I feel like you're…like you're holding me back, Finn."

His face crumbled. "It's not like Quinn is going anywhere!"

"Perhaps you're right. Perhaps Quinn won't go anywhere at all, Finn," Rachel conceded. "But even if she went nowhere in life, at least I know she would _never_ hold me back. And despite her complete one-eighty, Quinn has always excelled in academics. She has the potential to be so much more if someone just believed in her."

Finn pulled at his hair in frustration at literally every word that fell from Rachel's mouth. "And I don't?"

"I'm not saying that, Finn. I'm merely saying that Quinn can be turned around. You said she may not amount to anything, and I'm saying there's a chance she could."

"You just have all the answers, don't you?" he spat.

Rachel stepped forward. "Finn—"

He lifted his hand up. "Save it, Rachel." His hand fell limp at his side. "Just…save it." He turned to walk away and jammed his hands in his pockets.

* * *

After three hours of crying, the softness that Kleenex promised in their commercials more than wore off. Rachel's nose was red and felt terribly raw. Her eyes were nearly swollen shut. Finn hadn't texted her all evening. From what she was getting from Kurt, Finn had torn his room apart then locked himself in it. The guilt she felt weighed down on her heart and threatened to crush it. She hadn't meant to hurt anyone. But she found intellectual, emotional, and physical freedom in Quinn that she hadn't felt in a while. And she probably shouldn't have based a breakup over a couple of recent interactions with Quinn, but that really wasn't it either. It was as if Quinn had inadvertently magnified every flaw Rachel had discovered in her relationship with Finn to the point where they had morphed into an elephant in the room that she couldn't ignore.

She bit her lip to stifle another round of endless crying when she heard a knock on the door. Her voice was weak and nasally when she spoke. "I said I just wanted to be alone, dad."

"So I should go then?"

That voice.

Rachel ripped the sheets back and scrambled to get out of bed. She yanked the door open to find Quinn standing before her. She was still wearing the beanie that she wore to school today and in the midst of her sadness, Rachel felt herself swoon. She looked down at the bag in Quinn's hand in curiosity then back up to meet her eyes. "Hi, Quinn."

Quinn scratched at the back of her head, rocking back and forth on her feet. "Hi. Uh, I…heard about what happened, and—" She shoved the plastic bag in Rachel's face.

Rachel took it graciously, charmed by how awkward Quinn felt. She opened the bag to find a carton of vegan friendly vanilla ice cream as well as two plastic spoons. Her lower lip trembled and without any warning, she collapsed into Quinn and wrapped her arms around her neck. She released a shuddery breath and nuzzled the side of Quinn's neck. "Thank you so very much, Quinn."

Carefully, as if she were handling fine China—and perhaps she was—Quinn encircled Rachel's waist with her arms. Her hand rose to stroke Rachel's hair in a way she never in a million years thought she'd have the chance to do.

Rachel drew comfort from Quinn's surprisingly warm embrace. She had never imagined they would be this way, and thus never imagined that Quinn would exude as much warmth and affection as she did. But as she felt nimble fingers comb through her hair and a steady hand rub up and down her back, she sighed contentedly and nuzzled Quinn once more, placing a kiss on her throat.

It felt like the kiss was burning into her skin, and Quinn briefly wondered if she was high again to be feeling such a sensation. Her hands fell to Rachel's hips before she politely took a step back. Hazel eyes shined brightly in concern that Rachel had never seen before she was mesmerized by the sight of it. "How are you?" Quinn asked.

Rachel stepped back and gestured toward the bed. "I've been better," she admitted as they sat atop her bed. She grew sheepish and ducked her head until her bangs obscured her face. "But I'm much better now that you're here."

Quinn laughed. "Geez, Berry—yeah, I see why you're suddenly shy. That was pretty corny."

"_Quinn_," she whined in a way she would have never allowed her former foe hear her.

Quinn grinned crookedly at the sound of it. She toyed with a loose string in Rachel's comforter, focusing her eyes on that as she tentatively asked, "How did the break up go?"

Rachel sighed at the question. "Brutally, but perhaps that was because I was brutally honest."

Curious, Quinn met her eyes. "How so?"

Guilt-ridden, Rachel bit her lip. "I told him that I felt he was holding me back."

"Good. It was about time he heard the truth."

"Then he brought up the fact that I'm not a lesbian." Rachel watched Quinn perk up at the mention of her sexuality. "And I said that I'm attracted to you, Quinn." With a little shrug of her shoulders, she admitted, "And that's enough for me right now."

Quinn nodded, not giving away whether she was pleased with the answer or not. "Then what?"

Rachel thought for a moment. "That was it," she answered. She looked Quinn up and down from the bubblegum cotton candy pink of her hair to the combat boots on her feet. "May I ask you a question?"

Quinn's lips pressed into a firm line. "Maybe."

"What prompted—" She gestured toward Quinn's entire being, "this."

Quinn turned slightly away from Rachel to plant both feet on the ground. "Honestly?" Her voice was little more than a soft breath as she stared at yellow walls.

Rachel shuffled closer. "I would really like to get to know you, Quinn. Whether we continue our time together as friends or something more, I would love to get to know you better."

Quinn stared down at her open palm. She squeezed her pinky finger between the index finger and thumb on her other hand absentmindedly. "When I got pregnant, and afterward, I felt like everyone was treating me like I was the biggest screw up in the world. Like, cancel out all of Quinn's other accolades and awards beforehand. Cancel out the fact that she can _still_ _be_ somebody one day. No, Quinn is a screw up and she'll never amount to anything from here on out."

Rachel tossed her legs off the side of the bed to mimic Quinn's position and scooted closer until their thighs were touching. She wrapped an arm around Quinn's shoulder and wrapped her hand around her bicep to comfort her the way she always wanted to do when the prettiest girl she had ever met had had a bad day, which seemed to be frequent.

"So one day when I was buying groceries for when my mom woke up from her alcohol induced coma, I saw Mack, Ronnie, and Sheila loitering outside of the store. They made fun of my dress, but appreciated the fact that I gave it right back to them. One thing led to another as I thought to myself 'if this is how everyone feels about me, then it must be true.' So I spent the whole summer hanging out with them." Quinn bit the corner of her lip as she reflected over the summer she had had. "And it felt _so_ good to finally be rid of responsibilities and obligations for once in my life."

Understanding finally dawned on Rachel. That was what Quinn meant in the car about no longer wanting to excel. She just wanted to be a person, her own person, doing what she wanted and when she wanted. And though Rachel felt that excelling was essential in her life, she could understand wanting to just give up responsibilities and obligations and fall into the fringes of society. "Will you…always be like this?"

Quinn's face twisted in displeasure. "I got my first F today in class. It…sucked," she admitted with a self-deprecating laugh. "One of the worst moments of my life. So no…I don't think I'll be continuing with failing school for much longer."

The news excited Rachel beyond belief, though she maintained her composure. "I think that's a lovely idea."

Quinn shot her a look. "I'm sure you do," she replied wryly. "As if you haven't been gunning for me to stay in school."

"I admit I may have been a little…eager."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "That's putting it mildly. Now…" She reached behind them for the ice cream and handed Rachel a spoon. "Whenever I went through a breakup, I would wait until a Friday, eat an entire carton of ice cream while I watched sappy, embarrassing rom-coms, then spend Saturday and Sunday working it off before I had to go for a Cheerios Weekly Weigh-in."

It was a little piece about herself that Quinn was revealing, and Rachel couldn't express how grateful she was. She leaned forward and boldly placed a kiss to Quinn's cheek. "Aren't you going to eat this with me?" When Quinn nodded, Rachel dipped her spoon into the carton for a scoop. She placed the spoon in front of Quinn's mouth.

An eyebrow darted up along Quinn's forehead in surprise. She met Rachel's eyes and leaned forward to take the spoon into her mouth.

Rachel watched her mouth work as she lowered the spoon back to the carton. "I probably shouldn't be feeling this way in the wake of my breakup."

Quinn pretended to be oblivious. "What way?"

Rachel leaned forward to cup her cheek. She hovered for a moment before she leaned in to gently drag her lips across Quinn's. So this wasn't a one-time thing, the way Quinn made her feel, she noticed. The electrical shock she felt from the lightest brush made her gasp, and Quinn used the opportunity to dive in. She captured Rachel's lower lip between her own and practically made love to her bottom lip in a way Rachel had only read about in cheap corner store romance novels. She released a succession of staggered moans onto Quinn's upper lip, and slid her hand along the back of Quinn's neck when a warm tongue darted into her mouth.

_Finn was right_, was a flitting thought through Rachel's head. Her chest tightened in residual sadness and guilt and, as if Quinn could feel it, she pulled away.

Rachel wasn't sure when she had gripped Quinn's shirt, but she tightened her hold on it in the wake of the negative space between them. "What's wrong?"

Turning sheepish, Rachel's gaze skirted to the left. "Nothing, really. I was just thinking…Finn was right."

Quinn's kiss-swollen lips turned downward. The deep red lipstick she had worn over had smeared into a rosy pinkish color. She looked so lovely. "About what?"

"About the fireworks," Rachel murmured, staring at her lips.

She was rewarded with a flirtatious smile before Quinn's phone rang. "Hello?"

Never in her life had she wished she had super hearing more than in this moment. She waited what she hoped appeared patiently for Quinn to end the call while she ran her eyes down the lines and curves of Quinn's body.

"I'm not sure yet. I may be over, I may not."

Rachel's eyes snapped to up to find Quinn already staring at her. "Yeah, okay. Bye."

"May I ask where you're going or—"

"A party," Quinn readily answered. It was probably the least complicated answer Rachel had ever received from her.

"May I accompany you?" She winced as soon as the words left her mouth. "Is that too forward, too presumptuous? I mean, we aren't even dating, really. We shared a few kisses, but nothing is set in stone. And I don't want you to feel like I'm just going to smother your or some…"

Quinn just stared at her, and Rachel trailed off, feeling foolish. "I don't think a party is the place for someone who just broke up with someone else." She raised an eyebrow as she assessed Rachel. "And you strike me as one of those undercover wild types who goes out and bags the first person she sees just 'cause right after a break up."

Rachel huffed out a laugh and folded her arms, chin jutting out haughtily. "I haven't bagged anyone yet."

Quinn stared at her with intent. "Yet?"

"That's what I said," Rachel countered, though with less bravado to her voice. She ran their conversation over in her head, and her face inflamed. "I'm sorry. I just feel like I'm so, so forward with you. It's something about you…"

She sounded mystified in a way that piqued Quinn's interest. "What about me?"

"I'm sorry," Rachel apologized again. "It's just—I can't recall a time I've ever felt this…this burning passion for someone else."

Quinn licked her lips, but didn't dare speak another word, wanting Rachel to play her hand first as always.

"And it's not something as simple as me wanting to rip your clothes off. It transcends that. So much so that I didn't even know I wanted…_that_ until the night I kissed you. I just—I got a little carried away." Her lips upturned into a crooked, shy smile. "Though I suppose I've always gotten a little carried away when it comes to you."

Quinn stared blankly at Rachel as she attempted to wrap her mind around the fact that this was happening, that this was real, that Rachel _actually_ cared about her. It was a confusing tossup; she was so used to people only caring about her looks that it was hard to believe that Rachel cared for her beyond her beauty and body. But it was also hard to believe that Rachel desired those parts of her as well.

"I'm going to hug you now," Rachel spoke into the lengthening silence, unafraid to admit to herself that she needed physical contact with Quinn when it was obvious that intellectually and emotionally she was currently in her own world. "Okay?" She didn't really wait for a response, however, as she scooted closer and twined her arms around a slim waist while she rested her head on Quinn's shoulder.

The last few days were steadily attempting to catch up with Quinn, and she was still having a hard time believing any of this was real. If it was one thing life had taught her, it was that she couldn't ever be too sure of anything. So she wasn't sure of what tomorrow would bring. She wasn't sure of what exactly Rachel wanted. She wasn't sure if she could even _give_ Rachel what she wanted.

She felt fingers grip her waist, and by the time she registered what was happening, Rachel had leaned up and connected their lips just as she did that night. Quinn responded in kind this time, however, cupping the side of Rachel's face and making love to her mouth in a way Rachel just knew she could grow accustomed to. The sharp stab of heat that plunged into her lower abdomen was a constant reminder to Rachel that this was possibly the best surprise to ever come from being inebriated that one time.

Rachel worked a hand under Quinn's shirt to rub along the hipbones that had teased her vision that day as they pulled back. Her cheeks were pleasantly flushed with arousal and excitement for what was to come. "Yeah?" she prompted in a breathless voice to ensure they were on the same page.

But the one thing Quinn was always sure of, as she met Rachel's darkened eyes that were filled with such desperation and longing, was that she and Rachel had never been friends.

What Quinn had always been too stubborn to realize, however, was that it was because they were a lot more than that.

"Yeah."


End file.
